Miss Revived Part 5

“Well we’re done with the park and it’s getting late. What now? Should we find a random pub? Have a couple for old times sake? You really haven’t had a couple in peace. Our first excursion wasn’t the best, thanks to your old friend. Heh.” Cheryl said with a concerned voice.

They enter a local pub around the corner. Mostly full of middle aged workers, having one after a long day. It felt out of place but in a good way to Suz. She wanted to challenge her overwhelming fear of uncomfortable situations.

“You look like you need to talk, so shoot!”

“Truthfully Cheryl, I don’t think people understand me right now. I felt like I was under a microscope for years now by someone. I didn’t leave the house. You know why. You know my situation after situation the past few years was like. Like an A&E crime show episode. Except I statistically should be dead. I’m like the survivor who shouldn’t exist. There aren’t many of us to this degree. I don’t expect people to not think I am crazy. I act like an agoraphobic, bipolar,  empty vessel right now.” Suz admits with shame in her voice.

“But you are aware and awake somehow. You are fighting internally for your own identity back. Maybe I know more about it than you think, thanks to my mother. I’m sure just like she did, you still hear his voice and everything he said to demean you over and over. Like a drunk at a jukebox, playing the same song over and over. Except, it’s in your head and no one even hears it or knows. And if you told them, you’d be labeled schizo by ignorant people who aren’t psychiatrists. I know. It’s a common issue after extremely controlling relationships actually.”

“It feels like someone beat words into my head to the point where I could only think about myself in the manipulated way they wanted me to. All for control. All because of either fear or envy. Why not just love? Why is love not good enough for some people Cheryl?”

“Suz, I don’t know. But I do know it’s something inside of themselves that desires more. The ego drives a lot of beings in this world. That’s why it seems so dark. I feel humanity has to reconnect with certain things to salvage their empathy for not just one another but this physical planet and everything upon it. You bring that kind of light to this world. Even when you feel dark. That’s intense for those who are halfway there from your kind of transcendence.”

“You outdid your last compliment. I need to hang around you more. I’m really not used to this at all. Being complemented, being able to socialize, get into the car without the feeling of wrongdoing. I wish I could embrace it all better and not seem unappreciative. But I’ve forgotten what it feels like to receive real help and love. I want to remember right now, but I know time is the only thing that can help.”

“Indeed it is. You have to reconnect with yourself. Stop worrying about everyone else. You’ve done that enough to lift others up, but what have you done for yourself Suz? I say you draw a bath when you get home. Watch something you like for a change. Do something for yourself. One day at a time.”

“Sounds good to me. I don’t remember the last time I did anything for myself. You’re right but I still feel selfish.”

“Rid of the shame. Your heart will beat better without it. And go watch some Gabor Mate. Find anything or any voice that contradicts his annoying, looming one inside your head. Think of it like reprogramming. I’ll see you tomorrow or the next day. Soon. Take care of yourself tonight, Suz.”

“I will.”

That night Suz ran a bath, polished her nails, watched all the things people around her didn’t show interest in. She was self indulgent. Noticing every scar upon her body, remembering what happened while washing it away.

How could I have let this body suffer so much?! All those who came before me to bring me to this  moment of time. I owe myself and them more. She thought.

 

 

 

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Glad I Can Still Hear Her Voice…

She didn’t have much, but she left me with a recording of her singing which has meant the world to me. More than anything materialistic. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

And there isn’t a day that goes by honestly where I don’t think of her still. I won’t wash her clothes because they still smell like cigarettes and her perfume. Whenever I smell a smoke, it reminds me of her. Her sitting there, alone most of time, being strong willed and focused on taking care of everyone around her. Perhaps, more than taking care of herself honestly.

My grandmother looked after several siblings and didn’t have much of a childhood. Like a lot of kids out there during that time period, she was faced with responsibilities well beyond her capacity to fulfill them at the time. She lost siblings to diseases, did laundry by hand, and still managed to take care of everyone around her. They worked in the fields, but still went hungry. There was no running water. Buckets had to be brought from a well. She carried them like a warrior I’m sure.

She was a fragile person. The kind that rarely exists now in this world. The kind of person you would look at and just know she had the will of a sorceress and the heart of an angel. She was the kind of person who would give you her last dollar even if it meant she would starve herself. At times, she was misunderstood but I must admit she had an intuition made of gold. She stood for what she believed in. Honestly, it was difficult to find any hypocritical behaviors from her. I remember as a child she told my mother to take the clothes off the clothesline when we never had a problem in years. My mom didn’t and the next day, they were all stolen. She was the kind of person who sensed when something was off, and honestly was ninety percent correct with her instincts.

Losing her was a slow process. As if, she was holding onto this earth with all of her will power. I remember staring at her body, barely recognizable, seeing her artery pulsing in her stomach, knowing it could rupture at any time, at any moment. I remember secretly praying to a higher power to not let her go that way.  For weeks, she fought. The doctors rarely had seen anything like it. Her small, weak, 4’11” body could not overpower her mind. She needed love, that’s why she hung on. She had a life full of taking care of everyone, playing the caretaker role without anyone realizing how strong she was until she was gone. And I am not saying by any means she was unappreciated. She was just so good at taking care of everything, it was almost as if no one ever thought to thank her. It was almost as if it was just her “role” in life. But it wasn’t just a “role.” It was really the way she showed her love and kindness.

I knew at that moment what she needed. While everyone was busy in the kitchen, I felt this strange calmness come over me. As if I knew it was time to let her go and I had to be strong for her and say the right things. I held her hand, told her I know Papa loves her, & I know everyone loves her for what sacrifices she made. I told her even though they may not say it enough, that it was known she had a heart like no other person out there. She squeezed my hand as a tear came down her face, and as she took her last breath, I saw her smile. I saw her finally let all the pain and suffering go. The moment will be ingrained in my mind forever, just like her beautiful smile.  I will always love you Nana.

Invisible Cloak Date

She had never done something like this before. She just met him online through her blog, but she was instantly smitten. If her parents knew the horrific hotel she would be staying in and it’s history, they would have never let her go. So of course, she kept this hidden and convinced herself of the typical cliche “you only live once.” Deep down, she knew something could go wrong, but the thought gave her some kinda of adrenaline boost, having never done anything quite like this before.

He was tall, dark, and handsome. The kind of guy girls would chase after. (Especially if they knew what he did for a living.) She felt special knowing so much about him in such a short amount of time. He trusted her instantly, as she did him. Her heart could not bare anymore of the dating scene, and she wanted a man of his caliber.

He first told her he was a secret agent of some kind after a week. Persuaded her to never tell anyone for his own safety.   And of course, she had no friends, was sensitive, and naive. No one was around her much and she was kinda eccentric. She had a blog, liked strange music, and didn’t leave the house much at all. She was already isolated and loathing for a new life and family. He felt this from thousands of miles away.

She mentioned Harry Potter, and he mentioned having a invisible cloak. He bragged about how it made him feel invincible, superhuman, and able to scare people. This all seemed harmless to her at the time, intriguing, none the less. She imagined playing invisible tag with him, as he said he actually had two of them. There was no way she could pass up a date with a special agent.

With her bags packed, she hopped the plane, headed to California. The air was dense when she arrived, smog everywhere, but the palm trees were worth it. She couldn’t wait to check into the hotel, meet her future husband, and start sharing their unforgettable moments together. The hotel was less than inviting though. It was outdated, forgettable, and had the smell of must in the air. The hallways felt like they were closing in on you. Her money did not go far obviously. To her this was quite the expensive trip. Out there, her coin was a drop in the bucket.

She put on her eyeliner thick, straightened her hair, and made sure he would be impressed. It made up for the drably hotel room. He arrived within a few hours, with a bottle of champagne and flowers. He looked exactly like she imagined and was worth the risk. They popped the cork, began talking about life, and falling further into fascination with one another. He is convinced, this could be it. This could be the woman he waited for his whole life, in this drably hotel room ironically. They kissed for hours like teenagers in an alternate reality, when they were younger.

At some point, they began to talk about stars, how beautiful they were at night. He curled up the blanket and convinced her to go lie on the roof with him. It was the best idea anyone ever had for a first date, how could she deny him?

It was beautiful. His eyes, her eyes. His lips, her lips. All of it would not last forever. They both would never look the same as they did in that exact moment so they both treasured every second as if it was their last.

He said, “You know, I always felt invisible until now with you.”

She said, “I’ll be invisible with you forever.”

He wrapped the cloak around her, and she wrapped the cloak around him. They made love under the twilight, invisible to the world together.

Wishing Well

 

Standing around the wishing well
Wishing well…
Hoping that no one can tell
I have been here for a while
With a sad smile
Climbing all the paths alone
And I don’t remember when was the last time
I sang myself a lullaby
and it made me fall asleep
All I do is weep
for all the sad souls in the world…
misunderstood like me.

So I’m just standing around the wishing well
Hoping that no one can tell
I have been here for a while
So I can remember the smell of the pines
All the good times I created and left behind
at the wishing well….

And so it feels I tread all this internally alone…
Frozen feet to the bone…
Like a martyr, always standing alone…
Like a soldier, broken down and left alone…

So I’ll be at the wishing well…
Hoping someday someone can tell
I have been here for a while…
So I can remember how it feels to be alive…
So I can dream
Then toss a coin
So I can bleed
Then toss a coin
So I can seek….
And be my own.

Should Have Been Athena

I don’t even know what’s reality anymore

Say something to me

I dare you

Because I’m down on the floor

I dropped my shield

and like Apollo you rose

you played your guitar

but little did I know

your splendor was a facade

your heart was so cold

marked by the God Ares

And ready to charge like a boar

Your spear in your hand…

looking up at Mars, craving more…

 

I came to you like Aphrodite

When I should have been Athena

I came to you as the goddess of love

When I should have prepared for the arena…

 

I don’t even know what’s reality anymore

Say something to me

I dare you

Because I’m already on the floor

But I grab my spear

because you always seem ready for more

I battle you day and night

to settle the score

Then I rise like Athena

Fully armored with a crested helm

Striking you down

Becoming fully in charge of my realm

And even when you fell on your knees

I still showed you the greatest of empathy…

even after you broke me down

stole what was left of me….

 

I came to you like Aphrodite

When I should have been Athena

I came to you as the goddess of love

When I should have prepared for the arena…

All Off to See the Beautiful World

She feels forgotten sometimes. Some people close have moved far yet in her mind she maintains this previous image of them. The way they smiled, smelled, and laughed. The faces move around so quickly they blur, speed up, and suddenly she is again in the present moment. Her hands move slower, her expression covers up a slight frown and she moves on. She moves on every single day. knowing they too, are moving on every single day. She tells herself some superior being must have given her this ability to write, combined with the ability to perceive experiences in such a detailed way.

She drives by the farm, they all grew up upon, and it still looks the same. She thinks, The same bricks have been there my whole  life and maybe they will be there after I die. And then someone else will think the same thing.

“All that matters is the memories.”

The words bounce off one side of her brain to the other.

“This is what it feels like to be old.”

The thought doesn’t disturb her because it couldn’t get worse. She has faced it. She faces it every single day when she drives the same street she rode her bike upon as a child. The memories are as vibrant as they were the day they were created.She knows all that matters is the memories in the essence that all that matters is the words because in the end they are only what is left. The same wood that made the barn she passed as a child is still there. The same pothole I tried to avoid is still there. The same houses. But the people….all gone. All off to the races.

And I miss my sisters out there in the world. Their beautiful faces stand out in a crowd. But people must shine always through the rain, through the pain, and always gain purpose.

The Woman Who Lost it All (A Fictional Short Story)

She sits on her leather sofa they just bought a year ago, thinking “oh how I once worried about what color this is. Now I just want to get rid of it for free.” Caressing the leather, she imagines she isn’t even there but rather in another state, in a new house, with a new man, and her beautiful children treating him as if he is their blood. Over and over she tells herself it isn’t too late to fight for what she has always wanted; peace.

Their pictures are everywhere. Old memories once kept her sane, but now make her think she is headed inside a straight jacket. His scent is everywhere. All over her clothes especially. She has spent the entire day re-washing everything. Almost symbolic in a way, cleansing the filth of his wrongdoings off of her. So much blame, she says to herself. So much blame I have taken on to get to this point. All the introspection, day and night, beating myself up for what? To be forgotten. What happened to not giving up on someone? These days she perceives everyone as on the go, on to the next, and rather than fixing what is wrong, finding the new thing that might feel right for an evening or two.

Where do I get my faith? Do I ask god why this happened to me?Or rather just face the fact he would rather kiss the lips of another than mine. Why? She asks. In my head, he is still like a god. I still love the part  of him I first locked onto. How could he make it all go away? So quickly? Why can’t i?

She is convinced her heart is a fool or it is derived from gold. She chooses the gold because it makes it easier to hope. Hope for herself and hope for her children to grow up with a male figure who teaches them how to play ball, treat women, and straighten their tie. She wishes it could have been him but some play roles rather than living them.

The kids will be home shortly. So should he, but maybe he won’t be. He will probably call and say he is late at the office but she knows where he will be now. Thanks to a good friend at the restaurant, the reservation isn’t unnoticed. All bad deeds come to a bad end. Sometimes they just need a push into the end part so the dignity and esteem of the innocent remains intact.

She knew something was wrong when she tried to use the credit card last week but the credit line was used up. An expensive purchase, a ring, she waited for it last week but it never came for her. She thought it could be hidden around the house but after two days of searching there was minimal hope. She ponders: Why are my dreams always sold away to the desperate girl who would love a towel? That is not love. To be so desperate for someone to take care of you, is never love. I spent my life bearing his children, cleaning his underwear, cooking his food, and paying for a house I cannot even stand in without wanting to cry. I deserve that ring or no one will have it.

It is five thirty. The reservation is for 6. She kisses her children, tells the babysitter it will be a while, then leaves. The sound of the rain upon her windshield reminds her there are some things out of her control; like the weather. Like in life but she would have it no other way. Forget the umbrella she mutters. I want to feel the rain. For so long he kept it out, hid it inside, and now there is a storm.

She is on a mission. Briefcase in hand. Her soon to be ex husband, is desperately trying to woo a young lady after his wallet. Risking his children minds, money, his wife, and the rest of his life for what? An empty mind which needs to be developed. The girl knows better, she wants an easy way out. They both are in the wrong.

She sits down. Rests the briefcase upon the table. Everyone is suddenly still. They think there is a bomb, but no it is a lie detector. She tells him to put his finger in it like it has been in other places it shouldn’t have. Question by question she writes down the results in front of the other woman. For some reason it doesn’t bother her this man is a complete liar. Disgusting, the wife thinks. The crowd in the background is roaring with excitement. They think this is some kind of reality tv show like cheaters. She ensures them it is, knowing people will fall for anything their own mind creates.

At the end, she asks the other woman, knowing he is a liar for years, do you still want this man? The woman says, he won’t lie to me. Noticing the ring on the table, the wife quickly snatches it up and says well then if you are so greedy, why don’t you just eat this ring? If you can swallow it, you can keep it. Their faces are lined up, and the wife aggressively pops the ring into her mouth, makes her swallow it and says well that will be a memorable proposal. And by the way, hunny, could you sign these divorce papers? He quickly does and she is on her way.

The home is still riddled full of his memories and an occasional scent, but she laughs thinking of the last time she saw him. The woman, the ring, the detector, the crowd, and the papers. Her children are playing in the pool, as if nothing has happened. She thinks, I did it soon enough. She watches her new husbands muscle definition as he scrapes the pool, smiling at her children, then running to fetch a band aid after one of them falls to the ground. She thinks again, there is hope in people if they have it in themselves. Glad I never lost myself completely.